The Church of the Advent - Sermon by Fr Warren, March 2, 2008, The Fourth Sunday in Lent

Scholars call the first half of the Gospel according to John the Book of Signs, and they do so because this part of the gospel consists of a series of miraculous acts performed by Jesus which makes clear his meaning and how God is acting through him. St. John avoids the word “miracle,” for a miracle is of interest in itself. John, however, is interested in miracles only if they point beyond themselves. And so he calls the miracles “signs” for, as he presents them, they do in fact point beyond themselves. And that is what a sign is - isn’t it? - something which points beyond itself to something else - usually to something greater.

And indeed, what John recounts are more than just miraculous acts. Most of them are performed at the time of a Jewish feast of celebration, and the meaning of the feast is a comment on the meaning of the miracle, which, again, points to the meaning of Jesus. Moreover, each miracle is followed by a lengthy dialogue between Jesus and those around him in which the meaning of the miracle and his own meaning are made even clearer. And so the miracle is the starting point for an incident and an account in the gospel which is a sign. And thus, we have the Book of Signs - signs which point beyond themselves to Jesus.

Some people confuse the word “sign” with the word “symbol.” This is understandable, for certainly the two words function in the same realm of thought. Even so, the two are quite distinct. Symbol is derived from two Greek words: sym - with - and ballein - to throw. The literal sense of the word, then, is to throw together, to join two different realities. A symbol, therefore, is something which conveys not only its own reality but also conveys the reality of something else - that which has been joined to it in the creation of the symbol.

There are a number of symbols referred to in the Gospel of John. One of them is quite obvious. In the sixth chapter of the gospel Jesus says to those around him, “I am the living bread which came down from heaven” (6:51) and “For my flesh is food indeed and my blood is drink indeed. He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him.” (6:55, 56) Here St. John is referring to the reality of the Eucharist in which bread and wine really and truly convey the living reality of Jesus to those who receive then, and through the bread and wine, and they are joined to him. The Eucharist is a sign, certainly, for it points to Jesus’ sacrificial death - body broken, blood poured out. But it is more than a sign. It is, again, as I said, a symbol, for the bread and the wine of the Mass are joined to, or, if you will, they become what they signify: the body and blood of Jesus. Even more, it is an active and efficacious symbol, for the bread and wine of the Eucharist, joined to the living Jesus, join us to him and join us to one another as well. That’s why we’re here today.

One occasionally hears people disparage symbols. “Oh, that’s just a symbol,” they say, or, “It’s only symbolic.” What a disastrous misuse of the word, for if a symbol does indeed convey the reality of that which it signifies, it is the highest act of knowing. It is the sublimest moment and the end of epistemology - knowing as union.

St. John did not invent signs and symbols. God did, for one very important implication of the Biblical account of creation is that creation itself is a sign. Creation points beyond itself to the Creator. To be sure, the creation exists in and of itself; God grants it a certain autonomy. However, it remains a sign which points to the Creator who is as well the One who sustains its every moment. And before the Fall - however we understand it - before sin entered our world, Scripture implies that this was unambiguous. The creation was a sign; it always presented itself to our spiritual sight as a sign; and it was impossible for men and women not to see beyond it and through it to God. The Creator was simply obvious in creation; unfaith, atheism, was not a possibility.

And Scripture teaches also that creation was intended by God to be a symbol. Life in creation was life with God. The creation itself somehow mediated, conveyed God’s presence to his creature. That is the deeper meaning behind those many charming stories in the Book of Genesis. God strolling in the garden in the cool of the day; he is as present as someone you meet in the park. Or God, like a father with his son, sitting Adam down and having him give names to the various critters. Creation a sign - yes - pointing to God. Creation also a symbol: before the Fall life in creation is life close to God, life unambiguously with God.

And that, as God said, is good, very good. But what happens, dear brothers and sisters, when we cannot see? What happens when we have lost that primordial vision of God? What happens when creation appears no loner clearly to point beyond itself to God? What happens when God appears distant and apart, not close at hand and with us? Sign and symbol are of little use if we are blind. And so like the man in the Gospel this morning we need a savior to restore our sight!

For if we cannot see - if creation no longer points beyond itself, then we may easily take it as an end in itself and imagine it to be our own possession. “It’s mine, not God’s.” We use it and misuse it; we don’t see through it or beyond it. And if we cannot really see, we may well imagine our own lives as something we have accomplished on our own, rather than as God’s gift to us of ourselves, and we fall into the deadly trap of ingratitude, of selfishness, self-centeredness, and pride. If we have become spiritually blind we fail to see our neighbors as made in the very image of God and, therefore, deserving of honor and love, and instead we use them, treating people as if they were things. And there is theft and there is war and there is cruelty and there is hatred and there is neglect and unconcern, chaos and misery - all arising from our blindness.

In short, dear people, when we fail to see, we fall into sin. When we fall into sin, we are unable to see. And like the blind man in the Gospel this morning, we need a savior to restore our sight.

* * * * *

The man born blind in the Gospel received his sight, and Jesus did the deed. There’s the miracle, but it’s only the beginning of the sign St. John wishes us to see, for the gift of physical sight is the beginning of spiritual sight for the blind man - an insight into the meaning of the One who did the healing. At first he addresses Jesus as “Rabbi.” Later, the man tells those who question him, he is a prophet. More than a prophet, he says to others, he is one sent from God. And finally to Jesus himself, “You are the Son of Man,” the Messiah - the one who will bring about a new creation, a new world, and who will break the power of sin and spiritual blindness. He is - in the words of Jesus himself - the light of the world. He is the light which allows us to see.

Dear brothers and sisters, the world can be a very dark place, and it is doubly dark if we are blind. The world can also be a very lonely place and it is lonelier still if God seems absent or removed. But like the blind man we have a Savior and he will restore our sight. We have a Savior who is light and will enlighten us. We have a Savior who died and rose again and takes us to a new and transformed world. And that Savior is Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.